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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23967763">A Long Winter's Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GateOfTheSettingSun/pseuds/GateOfTheSettingSun'>GateOfTheSettingSun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Terror (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>12 Days of Carnival, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Depressing, Franklin is gone for sure, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, I say everyone lives and nobody dies but someone def died, M/M, Married Life, Nightmares, retired life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:54:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>799</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23967763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GateOfTheSettingSun/pseuds/GateOfTheSettingSun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The cold never truly left them.</p><p>12 Days of Carnival</p><p>Day 11 (Dec 23): “a long winter’s night”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Long Winter's Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The frost was spreading across the window at a slow pace. Francis had been awake long enough to have seen it crawl its way from the corners and start covering the whole glass. The fireplace that they had left to die down had indeed died out, coating the room in total blackness. It was only the full moon that provided Francis with light to see the frost. His eyes were not what they used to be and from the bed, he couldn’t make out the patterns that the frost created.</p><p>He remembered how in his childhood he had found them fascinating. The ice patterns, the snow, the silence. He guessed that it may have played a part in the path of life he took. But now he could no longer enjoy winter as he once had. The dark hours, the biting cold. Maybe it wasn’t as dark, wasn’t as cold, but it still took him back. He tried to live with the guilt, to live with the hauntings. In the summer it had helped. Seeing everything bloom, the green grass under their feet. Made him leave the artic be, leave those thoughts on the sharp rocks where they belonged. Made him focus on the beauty of the summer. On the beauty of James, for he too thrived in the summer. Oh, the heat. The country house they had acquired in their retirement had come to good use. But now when the winter was upon them, it was so terribly quiet out here. Not a soul in sight.</p><p>The wind howled against the window, a branch tapping against the cold glass. Francis found himself back in those tents. They did little to shield against the wind. The howling was much louder. Francis could almost feel the sharp jagged rocks digging into his back. He didn’t sleep back then. The worry for his men keeping him up. Each choice he made could have dire consequences for their survival. The men most likely didn’t get much sleep either. In fear for the bear, in fear of never seeing their home again. And some never did. The thoughts made cold sweat break out over Francis’ body. The sense of being cold did not help him in the slightest and only drew a sense of panic over him. He shuddered and his hands clenched around the warm and thick sheets of the bed. There was even a blanket on top. They had made sure they wouldn’t feel cold. Francis tried to remind himself that he was in a warm bed in a house, back in England, never to return to the Arctic again. But he felt cold all over. The cold sweat had started on his back but now moved on to his forehead as panic shook him. He tried to even his breathing to calm it down but to no use.</p><p>Sometimes he would dream of Terror. Her lying there on the bottom of the blue frozen sea. Broken and twisted. In his dream, he would be floating in the water overlooking her. Drowned like her. Gone from this world like her. Cold like her. It would be so silent. Then he would notice the men that had been lost floating with him around her. They were all gone. The dream was clear in Francis’s mind as if he had just dreamt it. Then he remembered another thing that had kept him from sleeping back on the rocks. He would listen to James’ breathing, make sure he wouldn’t fade away. They had slept together to stay warm. James's breathing had been ragged like each breath took all the power James had left. Sometimes there would be too long pauses between each inhale that Francis woke James up in fear of losing him. In his dream, James was there too. Drowned alongside Francis. Sometimes he would be right in front of Francis. Pale but beautiful, though gone forever. For a moment Francis imagined the closed eyes of James opening in the water, staring right at him.</p><p>A gasp left Francis and his breathing grew quicker until he suddenly noticed the silence. Not only from the window, but from his side. Francis found himself unable to turn his head, fearing what he would see as he had feared back in that dark tent.</p><p>”James! James, please don’t!” He called out in the darkness, he felt as if he couldn’t breathe, as if the water was filling his lungs. He could not go on, not without James. Rustling and a groan sounded next to him.</p><p>”Francis?” His former second was quick to act. James wrapped his arms around Francis and let the other cling to him. James was so warm.</p><p>”We survived Francis, we are safe. We remain…” His soft whispers continued throughout the winter night.</p>
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